


Spotlights on Me

by junipersand



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Actor!AU, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Model!AU, actor!sapnap, click click dream is having an existential crisis, model!dream, model!george, model!skeppy, you get the gist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: Models were perfect. They're gorgeous, they're graceful, and most importantly, they're miserable.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 146





	Spotlights on Me

If he could turn back time and stop his younger self from picking the worst career in existence, Dream would. He would barge into his younger self’s room and slap him across the face, burn his wardrobe down and tear up all his magazines to traumatize himself from ever choosing the career path he was on. Because of all the jobs in the world he could’ve chosen, he chose the one that required him to be on a diet of cucumber juice and dried sardines. To top things off, his manager was a complete bitch.

At the very least, his coworkers were the only things that made it bearable. Antfrost didn’t talk much, but he was a joy to work with. He didn’t like to indulge in gossip or any other controversial topic, so he was a chill guy to hang out with. Callahan didn’t talk at all, but he could be an utter ass if he wanted to. Other than his occasional practical jokes that drove their manager and stylists crazy, he was cool. George was one of Dream’s closer friends, but he was always the dramatic one whenever he was met with the smallest of obstacles. (“I’m too pretty to die,” George mourned when his glasses cracked after Dream had his way with it. Dream bought him a new pair afterwards.)

Dream was rather new to the industry, but his popularity was skyrocketing. He didn’t know why people would be interested in just a few pictures of him wearing a suit, but apparently people were weird and it fattened his wallets. His manager went psycho and put Dream in every advertisement they had, which boosted their company’s brand and their name topped the charts. (What was this, some music video? That was Wilbur’s gig, not his.) His coworkers were happy for him, but the others were always jealous of his success.

At least, they weren’t as bad as his manager.

“Come on Dream, you’re going to be late for your fucking _photoshoot_ ,” Sapnap mocked, spitting the last word as if it were poison. The arson-enthusiast was dressed in his usual sweater, with a white shirt underneath the dark clothes. He sipped a cup of iced coffee angrily, as if bean water was the source of his problems. “Don’t want to make the director angry, would you?”

Dream glowered, finicking with the chainmail on his wrist. “Like you’re any better, Nick.” He hissed at the feel of metal against his skin; he disliked the fact that these were the mandatory wear he was forced to have due to certain regulations. It was said to keep his image associated with the brand, but the only thing he felt like was a walking, living mannequin.

Sapnap crushed the cup and tossed it into the nearest trash can. “What can they do to me? I don’t even work there.”

He was right, sadly. Sapnap was in the movie industry as a famous actor. Recently, he’d filmed some movie named _Manhunt_ that featured Dream and some of their friends. It was an award-winning film, and the reason that some industries started sending emails to Dream asking him whether if he was interested in acting.

“Come on, Sap. George is probably already waiting and he has to face that bitch of a director alone.” The blond sighed. “I’ll have to face the thunder.”

Sapnap clicked his tongue. “You’re no fun.” He crossed his arms. “What’s Gogy going to do? He’s not going to die any time soon.”

“Well, it’s a fate worse than death.” Dream glanced at the time in his phone. _12:30pm_ ; half an hour ’till he’s officially declared late and would face some punishment. He didn’t know. His manager’s fucked in the head. The studio was at least twenty minutes away and if he left now, he’ll be ten minutes early. They couldn’t find a way to bust his ass if he didn’t break any rules. “I gotta go. Was nice talking, though.”

“Yeah, yeah; say hi to George for me. Bye.”

Dream slid into the seat of his car and waved his friend goodbye.

* * *

Whatever Dream was expecting at work today, it wasn’t this. Maybe he expected another lettuce-fast again, or even a three-month workout schedule, but not… whatever this was supposed to be.

“You too?” Antfrost frowned at him. It was easy for Antfrost, because he practically lives in the studio. His boyfriend works as a designer, so it wasn’t rare for the man to stay long periods of time in the workplace. “George came here earlier and was sent back the moment he came.”

In Dream’s hands was a file. It wasn’t just any file; it was his fucking _resume_ , stamped with bold red letters at the very front.

“They’re letting us go?” Dream demanded, exasperated. “Why?”

It made no sense. The company was at its peak, especially with their current set of idols. If it were smaller-named models being let go, he would understand. But they were firing everyone. Every employee. The designers, the models, the stylists, the secretaries, and the guy that does nothing but kisses the CEO’s ass every chance he gets. Something drastic must have happened that would lead the to the downfall of the entire place.

Antfrost shook his head. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t think we’ll have trouble finding another job. The others, on the other hand…” He glanced at his boyfriend, who was packing up fabrics from his workstation.

Dream followed his gaze. Many of the employees had crestfallen expressions. He recognized many of their faces; they’d been here before he was even in the industry itself.

“When did you get your notice?”

“This morning. I came by to drop off Velvet’s McNuggets and I was given the boot.” Ant sighed. “Well, let’s hope it’s nothing controversial.”

It was something very controversial.

The company they worked in, SMP Elite Agency, was involved in drugs and firearm trafficking. Dream learned this in the news later in the day, which did not go well for his evening. His phone hadn’t stopped ringing since, though most of them were from reporters frantically looking for an interview regarding the situation.

Bzzt.

_Sapnap: Dude, what the fuck? You’re doing drugs now?_

Bzzt.

_George: You okay? Ignore the media. Everything’s a mess._

Bzzt.

_Antfrost: Velvet got sent to do a drug test & we’re getting a home search notice. Careful._

Bzzt.

_Callahan: Don’t go out of ur house lmao_

_Callahan: like actually_

_Callahan: DO NOT_

Dream considered changing his phone number and moving out, just so he won’t have to deal with the drama that comes with. It’s not like he had any special attachments here – one of his neighbors was a teenage girl practicing literal witchcraft and the other was some crazy old dude who thinks young children are little devils waiting to hatch into some demonic dog or something.

That was until he picked up his phone.

_“Hello, Dream!”_

Dream’s eyes widened.

He knew that voice.

_“This is the MMC, the second ranking modelling agency. I am here to offer you a position—”_

“Darryl?” Dream spluttered. “Is that you?”

The other line fell silent, seemingly with surprise and shock. The call was silent for a majority of the time, which Dream considered hanging up just to end the silence. With a press of his thumb, he turned off his television and focused on the call instead.

Eventually, the voice returned from the other side.

“Clay?” Darryl asked, shaken. “Didn’t you say that you’d quit modelling two years ago?”

* * *

BadBoyHalo was a man of many talents. He was a former actor and a manager for a mediocre modelling agency, he shoots guns and has an archery hobby, throwing knives was a favorite pastime of his—but handling his emotions in a healthy way was definitely not one of them.

“So,” Bad started, rubbing his eyes as he stared at the blond sitting across his office table. “Do you want to explain yourself, Dream?”

Dream squirmed in his seat. Darryl—who now went by BadBoyHalo, which was something that came straight out of some video game—had changed over the course of two years. There were bags under his eyes and despite owning a big-time modelling agency, wore nothing but a black sweater and jeans to work. He looked like he could use more sleep.

“Well—”

Bad sighed. “Forget it.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Dream, I haven’t slept since that court case. You’ll have to excuse my behavior.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “What court case?”

“You don’t know?” Bad picked up his coffee mug. “It’s about the allegations on your previous company. I was the one that filed that report. I won the case, of course, but there’s still the media I had to handle. It’s all coming to a close and hopefully I’ll get peace and quiet soon.”

“You’re why—”

“Yes, I am.” Bad shut down the conversation before it even began. “Would you like to meet your new coworkers? George is heading back to Britain for a while to be with his family, but Ant and Callahan already met the others.”

Dream tilted his head. “You know who they are?”

Bad stood from his seat and pushed it backwards. “Of course I do,” he said it as a matter-of-factly. “We all came from the same high school.”

* * *

The environment was… cool? Chaotic? Casual? Dream didn’t have a word for it, because he’d never seen anything like it. It was a different atmosphere of what he was used to, and especially not with a team so small. While SMP had hundreds of employees, the MMC only had twenty, at most. For a company that not only managed to stay afloat but gain a stable income, it was pretty damn impressive.

It was soon to move up a spot because the SMP was down, but nobody in the building seemed to give two shits. It only took ten minutes for him to meet everyone, and they were all interesting and full of personality. Unlike the SMP where employees were robotlike and monotonous to keep their jobs, the MMC were filled to the brim with life and chaos.

He met Skeppy first, who was a model and the vice president of the company. Dream saw him lounging at his table, legs crossed on his table whilst he browsed through cat videos with his computer. Skeppy greeted him and they chatted for a while, but Skeppy’s thought process was something that would never be known to mankind. Somehow, the topic derailed from Dream’s day to the probability of coffee raining from the sky.

Next was Finn, Astelic and TapL, who were models at the MMC. He was surprised to see Astelic and TapL struggling to free Finn from a dress in the changing room, and their conversation that followed was quite awkward.

Then was the designer department. Mega and Vurb worked at that department, and they were seen scribbling over each other’s blueprints whilst they yelled at each other. At least, Vurb did all the yelling and Mega replied profusely with sign language, and topped it off with the universal “finger across throat” warning. Dream didn’t stay for long as soon as Mega brought out a pair of scissors.

The stylists were calmer. Their names were Zelk and Spifey. Finn was part of their group too, but he could do both jobs. Skeppy was always complaining that they needed to pay Finn twice his salary due to the nature of his job, which only fueled Finn’s spite to purchase the most extravagant and jaw-dropping dresses he could find on the market.

There were more people, but Dream hadn’t met them all. Most of them were off work since there weren’t any brand deals lately. Their magazine’s been pretty calm, and Bad’s expecting a detailed report on the SMP case being published, so they’re on the down low.

Dream glanced at the glass that separated the waiting room and the president’s office. He saw Bad typing something on his computer whilst on call with someone, though it didn’t take a wild guess to know who. Turning to the other office where the vice president resided, was Skeppy on the phone whilst snacking on a bag of chips.

_Didn’t you say that you’d quit modelling two years ago?_

He sighed.

Honestly, he wished he had.


End file.
